


The Only One Who Makes Me

by Gangstertogangster



Category: Luke Cage (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon Compliant, Dirty Dancing, Drabble, F/M, Older Woman/Younger Man, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-19 23:00:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19365496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gangstertogangster/pseuds/Gangstertogangster
Summary: Little ficlet I wrote up just now, kind of from my imagining them dancing to Honey by Mariah Carey in a very intimate setting. Like Luke and Claire dancing to Night Nurse, or Danny and Colleen doing the Tai Chi to Anderson.Paak.It's not overtly inappropriate, but I wanted it to be sensual.





	The Only One Who Makes Me

She liked dancing when no one was watching. Really, when the whole place was empty, just the stage and the microphones and the bar and the seats. Of course it was a childish habit, one she once indulged as a little girl. But once she got a drink into her, got the music to play through the speakers, there was no stopping her. Live musicians were what the place was known for. And she looked down at them from her perch on Saturday nights, special event nights, they had Solange coming soon as a matter of fact. But those nights she stood or sat or got restless and took her man into the office if the music was too steamy. No way was she gonna dance for Harlem. Gangsters don't dance, they boogie, as the lyric went.

She was wearing a flowy purple blouse and some silver slacks, one-inch heels. She was barely made-up. It was almost summer, it was broad daylight, it was just her here. And she was going to dance. The song burst on as soon as she set it up to blare from the club speakers. The speakers were a new invention, the club had gone through various remodelings over the years, but it was a much needed improvement. Much like the Basquiat instead of Biggie.

Mariah Carey's voice made her shake her hips and close her eyes, feeling the rhythm. This was her club. Her time. "Sweet sweet fantasy baby..." She was such a bitch last time she performed here, Mariah Dillard mused, but damn could she sing. She kept on swaying to the beat, this was just her...and him. Suddenly she saw him, stupid smile on his face, she couldn't see his eyes through his sunglasses but she bet they were smiling too. Smug. She froze just for a second when she saw him. Her eyes widened. _Damn he was silent, good at catching one off guard._ Then again, she kept thinking of his embrace and his touch and his--damn, it wasn't important. _He didn't really care about her, couldn't possibly._ He only cared about himself, tender as he was. But she kept moving her body, vibing to the music, her eyes stuck on his face. He slowly took the sunglasses, dark brown eyes curious.

"How long you plannin' on watching?"

He chuckled softly. "Soon as you noticed." She thought to herself  _I should be pissed_. Somehow she couldn't muster up much annoyance.

He continued. "I like the way you move" he purred. He kept himself at a distance, waiting for a sign. She kept rocking back and forth. Soon she'd need a vodka.

"How long you watch me?" _Stupid._

"Was I not supposed to?" _Typical coy tone from Hernan._

"The Paradise is closed." 

He nodded. "You weren't home." 

"Why did you want me to be home?" 

He shook his head, smirking. "I wanted to see you. I figured I'd let you finish and..." 

"You don't 'let' me do shit, baby. I let you wait. Let you come over." She rolled her eyes, beckoning him over by holding out one hand. He strode over. He took it gently in his hands, kissing it, lingering on the fingers. She let him. She pulled it back, sliding her arms around his waist, pressing her hips towards his. He spun her around, her back right on him and that chest and that tailored vest and shirt and suit jacket. He pulled away, gently taking it off and draping it on a bar stool. He went right back to where he was supposed to be. Why does Hernan feel this good. 

He snaked his own hands down her body as she grinded against his, the song 'Honey' resounding through the Paradise. "What you got is far beyond compare." His hot breath against her neck made her feel all the warmer, her head up against him. He hummed, sighed happily, his arms keeping her close, her presence keeping him holding...

She pulled away looked right up at him. He tilted her face towards his for a kiss, their lips touching as she lined her body right up against him, arms around each other, moving towards the other's ass or hips. He smelled like gucci. Damn, Hernan was paying attention to her suggestions, he really didn't know much about dressing...why did he feel so good, why was this so good...

They were just embracing, barely moving, bodies fully clothed but right up against each other. "Honey I can't describe/How good it feels inside..."

Mariah Carey's high notes bounced off the club walls and there were still no lights on, it was just the two. 

"Don't watch me again" she murmured. 

"Oh, I won't." 

"Unless..."

"Unless what?"

"Unless I let you, tell you to come..." She whispered this as she pressed up closer against him. He let out a little moan, his cheeks turning a little flushed since he clearly didn't plan for that.

 

Neither seemed to sense the third figure, desperately trying to cloak himself further. Sugar stood in the shadows, both mesmerized and horrified. He slowly backed towards the bathrooms. Last time he came in to work off the clock for anything...

 


End file.
